


my darling, i’ll be all you need

by ohcerauno



Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Angst, Dead relatives, F/M, Family Problems, Fluffy, Roommates, Slow Burn, Spideychelle, one big oof, unconventional at best
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-05
Updated: 2020-02-28
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:41:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 19,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22134964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohcerauno/pseuds/ohcerauno
Summary: a five-dollar bill and a gun can really change someone's life
Relationships: Michelle Jones/Peter Parker
Comments: 9
Kudos: 102





	1. Chapter 1

Michelle Jones aimlessly wipes her eyes after ending a phone call with her father. She feels a massive headache coming on, pounding and painful. It’s not every day that you get kicked out of your own home, onto the streets of Queens at night. Not to mention it’s pouring down rain.

She really should’ve expected something to give eventually. Their relationship was on thin ice, has been ever since her mother passed. Michelle just didn’t expect it to get to the point where he was throwing her suitcase out the front door.

It’s not that Michelle doesn’t understand where he’s coming from. 

She’s an uncanny replica of the woman he used to love.

But even so, that doesn’t warrant his actions, which have been tiring her out for months. If she’s being honest, she was going to leave on her own accord. At least she’d have a plan.

There’s no such plan here.

That’s why Michelle’s sitting on her suitcase, using an awning as her only protection from the rain. It truly is the _best_ time to be out and about in New York. Her father cares about her well-being that fucking much.

She scrolls through her phone, trying to find a cheap hotel option nearby that’s at least a grade up from sleeping on the streets.

“Excuse me?” Michelle glances up to find a man hovering above her. He’s wearing a leather jacket and a cap, the rim shadowing a good portion of his face. “Hi. I’m sorry, you can’t be here.”

“Oh. My bad.” She stands up, gripping the handle of her suitcase. It jostles with every crack in the sidewalk. Not even a minute later, she swears under her breath and turns around to pick it up. That’s when Michelle notices that the same man is following her. “Do you need something?”

“I think you’ve dropped this.” He offers her a five-dollar bill, one that she most certainly did not drop. 

“Well, for your troubles of being such a _good_ samaritan, keep the money.” Michelle shoots him a sarcastic smile and continues walking away. He keeps trailing her. She doesn’t want to come off as completely rude, but her night has been pretty shit so far. “I’m sorry, could you stop fucking following me?”

“And what kind of samaritan would I be if I let a pretty girl like you roam the streets alone at night?”

Michelle feels something cold press against her back. It’s sad that she already knows what the barrel of a gun feels like. That’s a memory from her past that she’d rather not delve into again.

“Believe it or not, I can handle myself.” She taught herself defense moves and has fifteen minutes of jiu-jitsu experience because of YouTube. Michelle kicks one of her heels up, just so it hits him right in the crotch. He releases his grip on the gun easily, giving her a chance to aim it back at him.

“You’re fucking crazy—”

“No, I’m just not a fucking _idiot_.” She releases the safety but doesn’t get much further than that, all because a white string of sticky fluid suddenly ties itself around her wrists, holding them together. Michelle panics for a brief second but that quickly disappears after someone in a red and black spandex suit drops down next to her. She knows of Spider-Man.

“So, uh, what—what’s going on over here?”

The man’s hands go up in surrender almost immediately. “She was just about to shoot me!”

“Alright, I’ll take care of her. Get out of here.” Spider-Man shoos him away while Michelle scoffs in annoyance. Some superhero.

“The gun’s not even loaded, and if you were watching, you’d know that he was the one to pull it out on me.” She lets it fall to the pavement with a clatter that’s barely audible due to the rain.

“Oh…”

“Yeah. _Oh_. Do you mind?” She holds out her wrists, and he apologizes sheepishly, pulling out a tube from his belt. The liquid inside dissolves the string with ease. “Great. Guess you have a criminal to go catch now while I…” Michelle turns around, only to find that there’s a vacant spot where her suitcase used to be. “You...have got to be joking.”

“What’s wrong?” He takes a step forward, mechanical eyes squinting.

She whirls around, unable to believe the audacity of him, acting like none of this was his fault to begin with. “What’s wrong? _What’s wrong_ is that I was just ambushed by a guy with a gun, only for you to appear and let the idiot get away while someone else was able to steal my damn suitcase.” Michelle pinches the bridge of her nose, trying not to let out another string of curse words.

“Shit. I’m so sorry. I—I can try to look for it?”

“You don’t even—no. You know what, I don’t want your help.” She turns around and starts walking away, trying to come up with solutions in her head. All that’s left now is her phone, which isn’t going to do shit. Begging her father to let her back in the house is looking like the only option. It’s not as if she’s got money for a hotel, anyway.

“Wait, M-Miss!” He runs after her but she doesn’t slow down. “Please. I’ll give you money to replace what you’ve lost? I feel really bad—”

“I’m not asking for your pity, _Spider-Man_.” Her voice has a bite to it. He winces, backing up a little.

“I’m not suggesting that you are. I just...come on, let me help.”

Michelle stops walking abruptly to look at him with a scowl. Her patience is wearing thin. “You think you can help me? I have no money. I have no clothes. I have nowhere to fucking sleep. I’m drenched and I’m tired—give it up, Spidey. You can’t help everyone.”

“You can stay with me,” he blurts out, causing her eyes to widen. 

“What?”

Spider-Man nods. “I’m serious.”

She stares at him, more confused than anything. “That’s such a bad idea. You don’t know me. What if I’m a serial killer?”

He shrugs. “You could be. I don’t think you are, though.”

“Well, you could be a serial killer.” 

“I’m Spider-Man.” His voice is deadpan.

“Yeah, like that makes a difference.” Michelle crosses her arms, shivering. The temperature must’ve dropped ten degrees in the past ten minutes, not to mention her clothes are completely soaked through. “Besides, isn’t it risky? For you, I mean. What if I find out your identity?”

“Would you really care enough to tell anyone?”

Michelle cocks her head to the side before shrugging. “Fair.” She swipes her wet curls out of her eyes. “Why would you do this for me?”

“No one deserves to be out here and alone.” He says it like it’s simple, taking a tentative step forward again. “And it’s partially my fault you’re in this situation to begin with.”

She chews the inside of her cheek, knowing that’s true. “Yeah. Okay. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Spider-Man gestures for her to follow him, and they end up at an apartment building not too far away. He’s on the fifth floor, though it’s a bit weird to watch a superhero fiddle with unlocking his door. “Come on. I’m sure you’re freezing.”

“Smart one, you are.” Michelle steps inside and glances around. The place is rather nice, though it’s obvious he’s not rich or anything like that. Any rich guy wouldn’t want to live in an apartment that’s smack-dab in the middle of Queens.

She notices the photograph sitting on his kitchen counter. Curious, Michelle squints a little to look at it, and her heart skips a beat at the sight. Turning around, she sees Spider-Man without his mask on. He waves, slightly smiling.

“Hey, Michelle.”

“Peter?”

“It’s been a while since we’ve seen each other. You left at the beginning of high school, right?” He drops his mask on the table, running a hand through his damp curls.

Michelle swallows the lump in her throat and nods. Her family had moved out of the state for a few years, despite her protests. Spider-Man started appearing during New York freshman year. She just missed him.

“Yeah. My—my, uh, dad moved us back a few months ago.”

It’s not like her and Peter were friends in middle school. Not really. They talked sometimes. They sat together sometimes. She tolerated him, though, more than she did anyone else in their grade.

“Well, it’s nice to see you.” He offers her a towel and some dry clothes, wryly smiling. “As curious as I am about why you were out in this weather at this time, I...won’t ask.”

“Right,” she mutters, her nose sniffling. Michelle expected her next words to be thank you but they aren’t. Her manners would use some work. “You—you’re Spider-Man?”

“Uh, yeah.” He looks sheepish, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s a really long story.”

“I’m sure it is.”

“I should let you get some rest. We can talk more tomorrow, yeah?” Peter gives her a kind smile, one that should feel out of place in the situation they’re in, but it doesn’t. She mutely nods, so he gestures to a closed door down the hall. “You can take the spare room.”

“So I’m not sleeping on the couch then?”

“Nah, why do that when I’ve got an extra bed?” Peter opens the door for her. It’s rather plain, but that’s all a guest would want. “Let me know if you need anything else. I’ll just be across the hall.”

Michelle doesn’t know what else to say, still at a loss because of this coincidental reunion. “Thanks, Peter.”

“Anytime.” He leaves her in the room, giving her a chance to take it all in. Michelle’s mind is too muddled to think, however, so she decides to change and collapse into bed. The comforter isn’t even pulled down all the way before she falls deeply into sleep.

Michelle’s woken up to the sound of her phone vibrating against the wooden tiles. She rubs her eyes, feeling a soreness to her throat and heaviness to her mind. It takes a moment to remember exactly what happened the previous night. She reaches down for her phone, which is still in her pants’ pocket.

It was a missed call from her father. No voicemail.

She shouldn’t be surprised that he only called once. Michelle doesn’t respond, just puts her phone back. She walks out of the room to find that Peter’s already awake, cooking something that smells really good.

“Hey. Good morning.” He grins at her, somehow cheery at the crack of dawn. 

“Morning,” she responds with a raspy voice. It hurts to swallow, like there’s fire coating her throat. Her nose feels stuffed as well, which probably means she’s caught a cold. No surprise there, considering the rain and temperature last night.

“How are you doing?”

Michelle rolls her eyes, unable to help it. “I don’t know, Peter. How do you think I’m doing?”

“You sound sick,” he remarks, pressing his lips together in a frown. “I have some medicine if you want it?”

Her shoulders sag and she shrugs weakly. “I don’t know.” 

Peter furrows his brows, but Michelle has already turned her back to him. Her mind is wandering, unable to focus on one thing. She can’t help but wonder if her dad is even worried about her. It would make more sense if he wasn’t, just by going off the pattern of the last couple months. 

_One call, no voicemail._

Nothing out of the ordinary. 

“Can I help you with anything? Seriously, anything at all?”

“I _don’t know_.” The only thing that Peter’s helping her with at the moment is another headache. She’d love it if he were to just shut up for a second.

He does stop talking, but Michelle leaves the kitchen, anyway. She goes back in the bedroom and grabs her clothes off the floor. They’re not really dry, but she still changes before heading back out, phone in hand.

“Michelle?”

“Thank you, really. I appreciate last night, but I should be going.” She doesn’t know where, but Peter and his sympathetic eyes aren’t helping her any. “I guess I’ll see you around.”

“What? No.”

Michelle blinks in surprise at the abrupt answer. “No? What, are you planning on keeping me captive here?”

Peter swallows, offering her a weak smile. “I mean, you didn’t have anywhere to go last night, and I doubt that magically changed in a few hours. All I’m saying is...you don’t have to leave so soon.”

She sighs, knowing he’s right, but she also doesn’t want to overstay her welcome. “Look, I don’t know how I’m going to repay you. You’ve done a lot already, so I just…”

“Michelle, you don’t have to repay me,” he says, shaking his head. She’s about to protest, but Peter’s as insistent as she is. “I wanted to help. I still do. It’s fine.”

It takes a moment before Michelle finally relents, taking a seat on one of the stools. “Alright, you’ve convinced me, Parker. If you’re still offering that medicine, I’ll take it now, considering I can’t breathe out of one nostril.”

“Fair warning, it tastes disgusting.”

She grimaces at the sight of purple liquid in a bottle. “Great. Don’t you just love getting sick? Oh, wait, let me guess. You don’t.”

“Not really.” Peter pours her dose and slides the cup over, laughing a little. “Perks of having such a great immune system. But I still keep this around just in case. Not that I have guests over here all that much.”

“No?” Michelle downs it all in one swallow, trying not to think about how bitter it tastes. There’s no point of putting a flavor on the label if it isn’t going to taste anything like grape. “I...would’ve thought that Ned and you had weekly movie nights or something. Star Wars marathons? You guys were lame like that.”

“Ned moved away after high school. He actually got married to Betty Brant, if you can believe it.” Peter chuckles fondly, looking down at what she hopes is pancake batter.

“Wow. All I remember about Betty is that I used to think about cutting off her perfect blonde pigtails in elementary school.” 

“Geez, what did those pigtails ever do to you?”

“Annoyed me? I don’t really know what it was.”

“Fair enough.”

“What about family, though? I’m sure they visit you, right?”

Peter frowns, his shoulders heaving. “Don’t really have much of that left, either. Ben died right after I became Spider-Man. May died just two years ago. And, obviously, you know...my parents…”

“Wow, I’m an asshole. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked,” Michelle exhales, pinching the bridge of her nose. It’s hard sometimes, trying to think before speaking. That’s one skill her parents never taught her.

“No—no, it’s okay. Really.” He turns around and deposits pancakes onto a plate in front of her. They smell really good, but maybe that’s because she hasn’t had any food in over twelve hours. “Here, you should eat something. I’m sure you’re hungry.”

“Thanks.” She takes one bite at first and then another. Turns out, he’s more than a decent cook. “I guess to make up for prying information out of you, I’ll let you in on my own secrets...my mom died this year and my dad kicked me out of the house.” Her words come out so offhandedly that Peter doesn’t register it at first.

“Oh, well, that’s...what? Wait, you got kicked out?” His eyebrows pinch together, something akin to pity in his expression.

“Okay—no, don’t look at me like that, Parker. It’s fine. I mean, it’s not really fine, but I get it. I look just like my mother and...my dad couldn’t handle it.” Michelle shrugs, trying to ignore the stirring in her gut. “It’s not his fault.”

“It’s not yours either. He shouldn’t take it out on you.”

“I’ll talk to him eventually. He was supposed to help me find a new job, though, so I guess that’s off the table.”

“You’re not in college?”

She laughs sardonically at that. “College? Wow, if only that were an option. No, I’m not in college. I’m too busy trying to pay to live in my own fucking house. It’s not like my father does any of the bills or buys groceries or—I don’t know, provides for what’s left of his family? That’s all me.”

“Oh.” Peter chews on the inside of his cheek. “Where do you work now?”

“I’m a bartender,” Michelle utters, scraping her fork against the bare plate for crumbs. “And a very _bad_ one at that.”

“Hey, no, I’m sure you’re amazing,” he says, trying to sound reassuring, but she shakes her head.

“Your confidence is misplaced, Parker. I don’t even know the difference between a tequila _sunrise_ and a tequila _sunset_.”

He smiles a little and takes her plate to wash it. “Well, me neither, so I can’t judge you.”

Michelle chuckles slightly, genuine this time. “You should judge me because it’s my _job_ to know.” 

“Tequila’s overrated, anyway,” Peter scoffs with a wave of his hand, and she can feel herself breaking out of her previously sour mood. It’s an easy conversation now, which is really, really nice. “I haven’t gone to college, either, so you’re not alone in that department.”

“Oh?”

He nods, pushing his hair back. “Wanted to focus more on the city. Spider-Man is really my main priority.”

“Does Spider-Man even get paid minimum wage?”

“Well, no…”

“So how…” Michelle trails off, knowing it would be rude to ask how he’s paying for the roof over his head. Peter answers her question, anyway.

“It’s, uh, family money and...a little help from Tony. Stark.” He coughs at the end but she’s able to make it out.

“I see we’ve got a name dropper here.” Peter starts spluttering, but she adds a smile to the end, just teasing. “It’s cool that you know him personally. Of course, he seems like a real douchebag on the screens, but whatever.”

“He’s really not that bad in person. I honestly think he’s mellowed since his daughter was born.”

“Well...good thing that Stark knows how to be an actual decent human being.”

“Yeah, good thing…” Peter trails off, finishing the dishes, the silence between them more comfortable than not.

Michelle eventually stands up and pockets her phone. “Um, listen...I know you want to help me, Parker, but you’ve already done a lot. I’m really grateful.” She jabs her thumb towards the door. “I should go, though.”

He pauses to look at her, his lips pressed together. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah. I’ve sort of got a plan. Here’s to hoping my dad’s willing to talk things out, considering it’s the only option I’ve got.”

“Alright…if you need anything, you can always come here,” Peter tells her, and she shakes her head, giving a small smile in response.

“You’re too nice. Don’t let anyone take advantage of that.”

His face falls for a split second and he looks away. Michelle wonders if that was the wrong thing to say, but he recovers before she can think about it too long.

“I’ll see you, Michelle.”

“Bye, Peter.”


	2. Chapter 2

The ‘for sale’ sign that’s been recently impaled in the front yard is intimidating. Michelle doesn’t know what to think, so she walks past it and tries peering into one of their windows. It’s completely dark inside. The front door is locked, and she doesn’t have her key, but her guess is that her father isn’t home.

Against her better judgement, she decides to call him. He picks up on the last ring.

“‘Chelle? How—how’re you?” He’s slurring. She shouldn’t be surprised.

“God, you’re drunk.” Michelle sits down on the front stoop and squares her shoulders, feeling the chilly wind blowing across the back of her neck. “What the hell’s up with the sign in our yard? Are you seriously selling our house? We haven’t even been here four months.”

“I can’t...live here anymore. The last time we were in the city... _she_ was in the city with us. And now, she’s not, and I can’t...I can’t do this. We’re leaving for Seattle, ‘Chelle.”

“No. Are you kidding?” Her voice is on the verge of breaking, but she pushes down the lump in her throat. “No. Fuck you. You kicked me out last night. If you want to leave, you can fucking leave.”

“Where will you stay then, hon?” 

Michelle ignores his condescending tone, already bristling. “I don’t know, but I’m not going with you. You say _you_ can’t do this? You haven’t been doing anything except getting drunk off your fucking ass every single day.

“Fine, stay here in this shitty city. Live on the streets and go to work as a fucking bartender. You can’t even make a good fucking drink.” She can hear him slurping on something.

“You don’t get to treat me like shit, alright? I get it, I’m a big ‘ol reminder of your wife, but you’re an ass of a father who doesn’t know how to do anything without her. I’m an adult. I can survive without you. Now, here’s to hoping you can survive without _me_. Have fun in Seattle.”

Michelle hangs up the phone and drops her head, unsure of what to do now. Maybe she was slightly bluffing to her father, but it doesn’t matter. Their house is going to become someone else’s in time and he’ll be long gone. She should really be feeling relieved.

It takes a moment to recuperate and at that point, Michelle remembers that she had a shift at the bar. She’s not too late yet, but the walk there takes twenty minutes, so by the time she arrives, it’s well past her clock-in time.

Good thing her boss doesn’t give a fuck. He’s nice like that.

Her job mainly consists of wiping the counter repeatedly because grown men can’t keep whiskey in their glasses and being hit on by people she doesn’t want to hit on her. The cycle is pretty repetitive, making things relatively easy but difficult at the same time.

“Michelle,” Darrell calls out. “You think you can set up the microphone on the stage? Tonight’s karaoke night in case you’ve forgotten.”

“Yeah, because I’m sure watching a bunch of drunk adults singing will be so fun.” She pauses and then shrugs. “Actually, I’ll get right on that.”

It’s surprisingly easy to get the microphone working, even though every time she bends over, some older guy wolf-whistles at her. Michelle’s sure he lives at the bar, seeing as he’s there nearly every night. 

“Hey.”

Michelle rolls her eyes and keeps wrapping up one of the cords, refusing to look at the man. “Sorry, I’m not interested in your dick. Please go away.”

“Ouch.”

_Wait._

She turns around and sees that it’s in fact Peter Parker, not the old man. Michelle flushes in embarrassment while he merely smiles at her, bright even in the dim lighting.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean—not that I—you know,” she tells him, rubbing the back of her neck. “Uh, please tell me that you’re not here for karaoke night.”

“It’s karaoke night? Well, shit, guess I’m gonna have to stay,” Peter says with a small smirk. “I didn’t know that this was the bar you worked at. It’s the only one I go to.”

“You must not come very often, then.” Michelle jumps off the stage, stumbling only a little. “Here for a drink or something, Parker? I mean, of course you are. What’s the point of going to a bar if not for drinking?” She snorts sarcastically to herself and walks back behind the counter. 

“Uh, I’ll just have a beer.” Peter pauses and then his shit-eating grin grows. “You know, to make it easy on you.”

“Just for that comment, you get to open your own beer.” She slides it across the counter to him, and he smugly pops the cap off with just his thumb. “Wow, what a loser.”

Peter gives her a mock-offended look. “Hey.”

“You know I’m right.”

“Maybe,” he eventually concedes and sits down at the bar, occasionally sipping at his drink.

Michelle has gone back to wiping off the counter but the little glances Peter keeps giving her are kind of distracting. She slings the towel over her shoulder and gives him a pointed look. “What?”

He blinks, eyes wide. “Huh?”

“You have this look on your face that makes me think you’ve got a question. It’s distracting me from my very difficult job over here.”

“Oh. Sorry. I—I was just wondering...how things went with your dad. But, I mean, you don’t have to tell me, of course...” He trails off and chugs a large portion of his beer.

“Funny story,” she scoffs, tapping her fingers a little too harsh on the counter. “My dad is actually...wait for it. He’s selling our house so he can move to Seattle. And guess what? I’m not going with him.” She feigns a fragile smile. “So, homelessness, here I come.”

“That...that really sucks. I’m so—”

“Don’t tell me you’re sorry. In reality, it’s probably for the best.” Michelle takes a shaky breath. “We both need space...like, multiple states away kind of space. I figure I can probably find an air mattress or one of those pool floaty things to sleep on? And maybe I can coerce the literal rabid dogs on the corner to protect me from muggers. Fuck hypothermia.”

“You sound so bitter right now.”

“I’m not bitter,” Michelle tells him through her teeth, taking his beer back to drain the rest it. “I’m just in the middle of a crisis, that’s all.”

“I have an idea,” Peter offers, leaning forward on his elbows.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He takes a breath and then smiles wryly. “What if I said you could live with me?”

“I’d think...you’re full of bullshit. Come on, Parker. I’m not roommate material.” She scrubs at a mark on the glossy wood that isn’t coming off. “Besides, you’re...you know. Spider-Man. You probably get into all kinds of weird shit.”

“Whether that’s the case or not, I don’t want you to be living on the streets. I know it’s not conventional but just consider it. I’ll be here.”

She nods slowly and then slides another beer over to him. “I think I owe you this.”

Michelle isn’t sure she’s ever seen so many drunk people try to sing _The Time of My Life_ in a row, none of them being very good at it. She would laugh if she didn’t have more pressing matters on her mind, that being the living situation Peter had earlier suggested.

He’s currently sitting at the corner of the bar, nursing a few empty bottles of beer. She wants to go over and ask him why the hell he's been so kind to her, but there’s no right way to do that. It’s just confusing, that’s all. They’re not really friends.

“Michelle,” her boss calls out, giving her one of those looks. She’s already internally preparing for whatever shitty idea he’s going to propose. “Why don’t you get up there? Prove to all of these drunkards that they can’t actually sing.”

“Very funny, Darrell. You first.”

“How about this. I’ll give you a raise if you do it.”

Michelle blinks in surprise. “What? Seriously?”

He shrugs, twirling a shot glass in his hand. “Yeah, why not? I think it’ll be great. Definitely worth the extra couple dollars per hour.” 

“I’m not doing it by myself.”

“Pick anyone in the bar, sis.” Darrell gestures around them with a smirk. “Plenty of people to choose from. Albeit, some more drunk than others, but…”

Michelle grits her teeth but doesn’t say anything. She really needs the raise now more than ever. Unfortunately, she’d rather not sing with a customer, especially not one of the few that come into the bar on a daily basis.

“Parker.”

Peter looks up from his phone, eyes falling on her in seconds. He gives a curious glance, and she merely jabs her thumb in the direction of the stage, causing him to scrunch his nose up. 

“What?”

“Sing with me?”

“Hah.” He snorts at that and shakes his head. “I’m shit at singing, which is why it only happens in the shower. Besides—uh, I’m drunk?”

Michelle narrows her eyes at him. “You don’t look drunk. You don’t sound drunk. Doesn’t Spider-Man have a fast metabolism?” His laugh wavers as she leans forward, her elbows resting on the counter. “Look, my boss offered me a raise if I go up there and sing. There’s no fucking way I’m doing it alone, and I need the money. So, please. Sing with me.”

Peter stares at her for a lingering second, swallowing, and then nods slowly. She smiles a little, and they go up on the stage together, equally nervous.

“Please tell me we’re not singing the same song that everyone else has been singing. I hate that song,” he utters.

“That’s a classic, Parker...but I’m also sick of it. Here, I’ll pick this one.” Michelle hovers her finger above the play button, glancing at Peter. “You ready?”

“I guess so.”

The music starts playing in the background as soon as she starts it, and Michelle has to quickly glance at the lyrics on the screen. She doesn’t have it all memorized by heart.

“ _Oh, I can’t wait to get home. I don’t know why but I’m feeling low_ ,” she begins, seeing only the bright lights shining down. It’s kind of overwhelming. “ _Happened again, and I want you to know. Having my man is good for my soul_.”

“ _I try to be strong, but I got demons. So can I lean on you? I need a strong heart and a soft touch, and you’re the one when I want love_ ,” Peter continues, and Michelle realizes he isn’t as bad as he played himself out to be.

“ _It’s you and only you who can be taking away the shit that I go through each and every day...when I’m alone with you_.” She closes her eyes because it’s just easier that way.

“ _You make it better again, yeah. Your arms are where I want to remain, catch my eye and she starts to say...hey, baby, we can dance slowly. My darling, I’ll be all you need_...” Peter trails off, slightly clearing his throat, causing her to look at him. He leans away from the microphone, lowering his voice. “Is that good enough?”

“Yeah. I think I’m done embarrassing myself.” She stops the music and her face flushes when everyone starts clapping. Albeit, drunkenly, but still clapping.

Darrell even has the audacity to whistle. “Encore!”

“Shut up, Darrell.” Michelle jumps off the stage and goes over to him with Peter trailing behind. “I’m expecting my raise to be enacted by tomorrow.”

“You got it, girlie. I was honestly expecting this to be something funny that we could both look back on, but it turns out you two sound really good together. I’m impressed,” he casually remarks while heading towards the back room.

“Wow, I don’t know if I should be insulted or flattered,” she calls back, rolling her eyes before taking a big sip of beer. 

“Hey.” Peter touches her arm lightly. “I know you probably haven’t made a decision yet about the whole...roommate thing, but it’s getting late. You can stay with me again for the night...if you want?”

“Oh. Yeah.” She nods, still trying to wrap her mind around everything. “Thanks, Peter. For helping me out so much. I...appreciate it a lot.”

His face flushes and he looks down, smiling a little. “Of course. I’m just trying to do what any decent person would.”

“Well, no person I’ve met is as decent as you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have big plans :)


	3. Chapter 3

Michelle should’ve known she wasn’t going to sleep well, even in the same comfortable bed as the previous night. It was nearly impossible not to overthink everything that’s going on in her life—the bad and the very bad. Her problems just _had_ to flood in all at once.

Maybe overthinking is just making things harder on her, but she can’t really help it. That’s how her brain is wired.

She leaves the bedroom and finds Peter watching an episode of The Haunting of Hill House on the couch. He’s on the edge of his seat, not paying his surroundings any mind, too engulfed in the cinematography of the shot.

Michelle taps him on the shoulder. “Hey.”

Peter lets out a startled gasp, and the next thing she knows, one of them is standing on the ceiling. It’s one-hundred percent not her.

“What the fuck, Michelle?!”

“Geez, that was an overreaction at its finest. I barely even touched you,” she says, rolling her eyes.

“Well, you still scared the shit out of me— _and_ almost gave me a heart attack.”

Michelle raises both of her hands, taking a seat. “Sor- _ry_.” She pauses and then shakes her head, dropping them. “Actually, I’m not. It’s not my fault that you couldn’t tell I was behind you, even though—what, you have a sixth sense specifically for these types of things?”

Peter drops back down next to her, pinching the bridge of his nose. “ _No_ , my Spidey-sense only works for threats. You aren’t a threat.”

“I clearly am if I nearly gave you a heart attack.”

“Well, I just…yeah, I guess you’re not wrong,” he says with a conceding chuckle, shaking his head. 

Michelle smirks slightly and pulls her legs up. “When am I ever, Parker?” She then turns her head towards the TV, assuming that their conversation will just die off. But, of course, Peter is too polite not to ask the basics.

“Did you sleep okay last night?”

“Yeah. You know.” She doesn’t look at him, keeping her gaze locked on the screen. Her head isn’t in it, unable to keep focused. 

“What do I know? That you’re lying?”

“I...really don’t know,” Michelle exhales, rubbing her forehead. She can’t meet his eyes, knowing they’ll be magically full of emotions that have barely seen the light of day with her. It’s not something she’s used to. People aren’t supposed to care in her world.

Peter takes the remote and turns off the TV, her only form of escaping the conversation. She looks at him, trying to smile reassuringly, but it’s just another lie that he can see right through, judging by the way he frowns and moves closer.

“Do you want to talk about anything?”

“I...hear global warming is a hot topic nowadays…”

“Michelle,” he tries, sincerity overflowing, chipping away at her defense mechanisms. She wants to know what it is about him that’s slowly breaking her down.

“It’s stupid. I know it’s stupid, but I can’t...not think about my dad. About him leaving, about him selling our house—about him not knowing how to do anything anymore except tell me how horrible a daughter I am.” Michelle laughs with water in her eyes, knowing it’s all going to come out now. 

“It’s a lot at once, but thinking about it isn’t stupid. You know that. He’s your father, despite how shitty.”

“I’m—I’m not even angry anymore, either. I’m not going to miss him because I know we need space. But...just the fact that I’m going to be alone—without family or anyone in this city...is the fucking worst. That’s probably so pathetic.”

“Hey. It’s not pathetic. It’s completely normal, alright? When…” Peter swallows thickly, shaking his head. “When you think you don’t have anyone else, you can resort to feeling certain things or _doing_ certain things, but you’re never completely alone. I know that we aren’t that close, Michelle, but I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

She chews the inside of her cheek, taking a moment to just gage Peter’s expression. His eyes are flitting across her face expectantly, and when she eventually nods, smiling a little, he mirrors her.

“Thanks, Parker.”

“I didn’t do anything,” he says with a little laugh.

“Oh, shut up. You’re not as dumb as you look,” Michelle replies lightly, elbowing him.

“No? Wow, high praise.”

“Expect more to come...since I have a feeling that I’m going to take you up on that offer from last night.” And her heart swells just by seeing the way his eyes crinkle around the corners while smiling at that. “But—I’m going to need to make a stop at my old house. One can only wear dumb science pun t-shirts for so long.”

“Oh, come on, Michelle. They’re gold.”

“They’re really not.”

“Why the hell is it so fucking hard to pick a _stupid_ lock?” 

Peter rolls his eyes, nudging her to the side. “Maybe because bobby-pins only work in movies. What if I were to just break it? Fast and efficient, we’re in and out before he—”

“Right, because that’s not suspicious at all,” Michelle utters with a snort and tries jiggling the handle again. It doesn’t budge. “Maybe you can just hoist me up to a window or something…”

Before either of them can make another decision, the front door swings open by itself, revealing her hungover father in all of his disheveled glory. She swallows the lump in her throat, trying not to add fuel to the internal fire.

“What in the world is going on?” He narrows his eyes, arms crossed. “Michelle? Are you trying to break in?”

“Me, break into my own house? Now where’s the sense in that?” Her voice comes out deadpan as she straightens up, not giving him the satisfaction of towering over her. “I just came to grab my things, but we’ll make it quick and get out of hair, yeah? Since you’re clearly so busy.”

“And I’m just...with her,” Peter mumbles, following Michelle inside and up to her bedroom. “Oh, god. Can you say pig sty or what—”

“Shut up.” Her room is only messy because she was haphazardly organizing things, and she never got the chance to fix them. Her bag is sitting nearby, which she tosses the necessary clothing in. Books go in, too. So does her laptop and stuffed penguin. It gets her a side-eye from Peter. “What?”

“What’s its name?”

“Why, so you can laugh at me for naming a penguin after a Hogwarts house?”

“Wait, you did?”

“Yeah.”

Peter shrugs, giving her a slight smirk. “Maybe your penguin isn’t as lame as I thought, then.”

“Oh, please, Hufflepuff would 10/10 beat your ass,” she snorts, grinning all the while. 

“Of course you named him after the worst house—”

Michelle shoves his shoulder lightly, and he laughs. “Okay, get outta here. I don’t think I can live with someone who so blatantly disrespects my penguin like that. Besides, you’re, like, the definition of Hufflepuff, so don’t go throwing that around, Parker.”

“What? No, I took a Buzzfeed quiz, which clearly stated that I was Gryffindor, and Buzzfeed never lies,” Peter says defensively, crossing his arms. It’s almost funny.

“The fact that you even take those quizzes on Buzzfeed means that we desperately need to find you a social life. It also further proves my point.” 

“Michelle—”

“Nope. I’m ignoring you now.” Michelle goes back to packing her things up, his voice becoming a mere low buzz in the background. She’s good at tuning people out like that. 

Almost everything she needs is already in her bag, but something reminds her of the jar under her bed. Everything in that jar was kept from her dad, and now Michelle realizes that idea was the smartest to have ever been. She pulls it out, taking a good chunk of whatever’s inside and hands it over to Peter, interrupting his spiel.

He blinks in surprise, not making any moves to take it from her. “What—what is this?”

“Money…? I figured that I could pay you monthly for, you know, my share in bills. I can already tell you that I’m going to take longer showers, so your water bill will immediately…” She clicks her tongue, jabbing her thumb upwards. However, Peter shakes his head.

“No, Michelle, I’m not taking your money.” He pushes it back.

“I hope you don’t think I’m staying with you for free?” Michelle takes one of his hands, dropping the money in it. “I’m not a freeloader, and you’ve already done enough for me. Look, Peter, just take this. You know that I’m getting a raise, anyway, so I can assure you that I won’t immediately go dirt-poor.” 

“Yeah...alright. Fine,” Peter relents, pocketing it with a sigh. She nods, slinging her bag over her shoulder. “You ready to go?”

“Beyond belief.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we're just chilling for now


	4. Chapter 4

“Have you seriously watched this movie enough times to be able to recite every single line?”

Michelle’s currently sitting criss-cross on the couch, sharing a blanket and a bowl of popcorn with Peter. There’s a generic rom-com playing on the screen in front of them, but she can’t get into it. Mainly because he won’t stop mouthing the words, and it’s distracting.

Peter snorts and shakes his head, tossing a kernel up in the air, only to catch it in his mouth. “No, of course not. That would imply that I have no life. I _do_ have one, despite what you keep telling me. Just because I take Buzzfeed quizzes doesn’t automatically make me a loser.”

“Yeah, I forgot. You’re just a loser all on your own.” She throws a piece of popcorn at his face, but he also catches it in his mouth. Smugly, of course.

“You were saying?”

Michelle rolls her eyes and takes the bowl from him. “That literally proves nothing.”

“No? What about the fact that I’m...you know, actually Spider-Man?”

“Yeah, right. Are you sure you’re Spider-Man? Because I only ever see you at the bar, definitely not doing superhero things.”

“I _do_ superhero things,” he protests. “But I do them during the day. It’s a day job.”

“Oh, wow, and here I thought being an Avenger was a full-time gig,” she exhales, resting her head against the back of the couch. 

Peter stretches his arms out, enough to flick her on the back of the head. “I don’t know why you’re complaining. I’m great company.” Their gazes meet within seconds, and she scowls at him. He merely smiles in return. “Aw, what’s that look for, Michelle?”

“I’m still trying to decide if last night’s incident was a debacle or debauchery. I’m scarred for life because of you.”

“Okay, now that was an accident, I swear.” He grimaces, thinking back on it. “I didn’t know he was going to...start stripping. I thought the guy just wanted to get to know you.”

“It’s never that innocent, Parker. Besides, you don’t meet the love of your life in a bar. You just don’t. All of these movies and stories that depict otherwise? They’re wrong. The _only_ good thing that can come out of meeting someone at a bar is a one-night stand, and even those have a chance of failing.”

Peter frowns and looks down at his lap. “Maybe…”

“I’m sorry for bursting your hopeless-romantic bubble.”

“Nah, that bubble has been burst for a long time.” He stands up without any further explanation, cracking his back. “My throat is killing me, so I’m going to get some water. Do you want anything?”

“Tea?”

“Um...yeah, I don’t have any of that.” Peter rubs the back of his neck, flashing her an apologetic smile. 

Michelle’s expression drops. “What? Are you fucking with me?”

“I’m sorry! I have coffee?”

“That—that’s not even close to being on the same level.” She closes her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose, completely and utterly disappointed with the man she’s living with. “I can’t believe you like _coffee_ over tea.”

“No, I just...I’ve never had tea before,” he admits, and just when she didn’t think it could get worse, there he goes, saying things like that. She stands up as well and turns off the TV, despite his confused protests. “I-it wasn’t over yet!”

“And what a shame that is. Where’s the closest convenience store around here? I clearly need to educate you on fine drinking.” Michelle leaves the room to put on her shoes, and Peter trails behind, nose scrunched up.

“But tea? It—it can't even be that good! It’s like...leaf water, and who in their right mind would like leaf water?”

“I am... _this_ close to hating you, Parker.” Even though Michelle thinks that hating Peter for even a second would be next to impossible.

“Okay, but—it’s ten at night.”

“Fine. You can stay here then. I’ll be right back.” She pulls a jacket over her hoodie and grabs the key sitting on the table.

“What? But you don’t even know where the store is,” Peter tries but to no avail. Michelle holds her phone up.

“Google.”

A beat passes, taken up by the two of them just staring at each other. She’s not going to back down on this, but judging on the way that Peter eventually reaches for his coat, he is.

“Let’s get your stupid leaf drink.”

It’s truly gotten out of hand. 

Michelle honestly wants to smack Peter upside the head for cluttering the apartment up with his stupid _mugs_. They’re everywhere, and it’s annoying as fuck.

Of course, deep down, she knows it’s not his fault. One sip of tea, and anyone would be a goner. Bringing him out to buy some with her that night might have been a mistake, though. She swears she’s been finding tea bags in her pillowcases somehow.

Thankfully, she’s the only one home at the moment, being that Peter is out, actually doing his job for once. He’s probably saving New York, one old lady at a time. It gives her a chance to clean things up, which the place so desperately needs.

But while her arms are elbow-deep in soap, someone knocks on the door. She seriously considers ignoring whoever it is, figuring they can just come back later when Peter’s home, but the person knocks _twice_ more. Plus one.

Michelle quickly dries off her hands and walks over to the door, feeling fairly annoyed by the eighth knock. When she wrenches it open, a woman is found to be standing there, her lips pressed together in a thin line. That doesn’t change upon confrontation.

“Is Peter home?”

“No...but I can leave him a message for you...if you want,” Michelle offers, trying a smile. The woman doesn’t look impressed.

“If I wanted to leave him a message, I would’ve just called. No need for the middle-man, which is you, right?” She smirks a little. “I didn’t catch your name, kitty. You are?”

“Michelle.” 

“Oh? We haven’t met before. I would’ve remembered a face like yours. I’m Felicia. Peter’s mentioned me to you, I’m sure,” she says, brushing her sleeves off with perfectly manicured hands.

“He hasn’t...but I’ll let him know you stopped by.” Michelle goes to close the door, but Felicia jams her foot in the frame, stopping it. 

“What’s keeping you in there? I really hope it’s not the sex, darling. You won’t be around for much longer now that I’m back.”

Michelle clenches her fist around the door handle, sarcastically smiling at the stranger. “Excuse me? We’re not having sex.”

“No? Well, that doesn’t make much sense at all. It’s not like he has anyone over, which...when you think about it, that’s sad. And you’re not one of his...two friends.”

“I’m his roommate,” she bites out, straightening up. Felicia’s almost the same height as her in the heels she’s wearing. It’s irking. “But it makes sense that you wouldn’t know, considering I’ve never heard of you in my life.”

Felicia clenches her jaw. “I’ve been on a trip, if you must know, but he would have told me if he started living with another girl.”

“Are you his wife? Girlfriend?”

She scoffs loudly. “None of the above, thank god.”

Michelle’s gaze hardens, and she forces Felicia’s foot out of the way. “Then I don’t see why he would tell you. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have more important things I need to finish. I’ll let Peter know you dropped by.” She’s about to close the door, but then, of course, the devil himself climbs through the window in his Spider-Man getup.

“Hey, Michelle, I think I found something you’d really like at this little bodega. It’s a mug that says _liquid sani-tea_ …” But Peter’s words quickly die in his mouth as he wrenches his mask off, expression slightly falling at the sight. “Felicia?”

“Peter. Finally.” Felicia plasters on a saccharine smile and brushes past Michelle, not-so subtly knocking into her shoulder. “I’ve just been getting acquainted with your new roommate. She’s _so_ lovely.”

“O-kay, whatever. I think I need some of that liquid sanity right now.” Michelle walks into the kitchen, turning her back on the two of them. Maybe they want privacy, maybe not, but she doesn’t feel any need to involve herself. That, and Felicia has already gotten on her fucking nerves in the very few minutes that they’ve known each other.

“I know this is probably a little confusing…” Peter rubs the back of his neck, casting Felicia a brief glance. “I didn’t think you were going to get back for another two weeks.”

“Well, you thought wrong, sweetheart.”

“Yeah,” he says quietly, sighing. His eyes flit between the two of them, like this is some math equation that can’t be solved. “Michelle...this is my ex, Felicia. Felicia, this is my roommate, Michelle.”

“I’ve gathered. Don’t be dim, Peter. It doesn’t suit you.”

Peter clenches his jaw ever so slightly. “Fuck off.”

“Why don’t you do the opposite of that and fuck _me_ instead? That’s the only reason I came over, anyway.” She runs a hand across the length of his shoulders, wearing a smirk. He shudders a little but doesn’t move. “Thought we could both use a good run. I’m sure it’s been...a while for you.”

Michelle doesn’t know what to say, most definitely at a loss for words because of the situation at hand. It’s clear that Peter’s feeling the same way, judging on the way he’s staring helplessly at the floor.

“Hey.” She grasps his wrist, tugging lightly. “Can I talk to you real quick? Like, in the bedroom?”

“Oh, you taking him out for a spin? Gotta warn you, He might be a little rusty—”

“Could you please shut the fuck up?” Michelle narrows her eyes at the woman, who sniffs haughtily, holding her hands up. She then pulls Peter into his bedroom, closing the door behind them. He doesn’t say anything, not until she prompts him. “So, Felicia.”

“Yeah, I’m...really sorry about her. She can be…difficult,” he utters, rubbing his temple.

“Understatement. Look, I don’t need the whole story, not at all, but when your ex-girlfriend shows up knocking, demanding to have sex, you can’t blame me for being a little confused. Why is she...here?”

Peter chews the inside of his cheek, wringing his hands. “Complicated answer if I’m being honest...but long story short, we’re sort of, kind of...maybe still doing the sex thing.”

“You’re sort of...kind of... _maybe_ still doing sex? Like...friends with benefits.”

“Minus the _friends_ part.”

“Yeah, I can see why.” Michelle keeps the rest of the unpleasant comments to herself, focusing on Peter and his unhappy expression. It’s severely bringing her mood further down. “I’m not here to judge or prod or tell you how to live your life, despite...her being her. You can do whatever your heart desires, but...why not give me a warning? I mean, seriously.”

“She—she’s been in Europe for this retreat, but I guess it ended early...I should’ve told you, but it’s an awkward topic to bring up, you know?”

“God. Okay. Just...the next time you have to make up a roommate contract or something, I’d add that little unimportant bit. I like sex as much as the next person, but listening to it is a whole different story. I have a feeling that I’m getting the short end of the straw here.”

“It won’t be like that, I promise,” Peter says with a wry smile. A beat passes, and the smile falls. “Wait, the next roommate contract?”

“I mean...we’re not going to live with each other for the rest of our lives, Parker. Everyone knows roommates are temporary. Your next one might be your wife. I don’t know.”

He stares at her, frowning, but then a small grin slowly spreads across his face. “According to you, I’m too much of a loser to find a lover.”

“Hey, I never said that. Pretty sure I said wife, because I know for a fact that any dog would fall head over heels for you, Parker. Or _spider_ , for that matter. You’re just that type of guy.”

“Thanks?”

Michelle breathes out a laugh and nudges his arm, causing him to smile softly in return. “Speaking of, you gonna change out of that onesie? I can’t imagine that it doesn’t chafe.”

“Actually, it’s really comfortable—but you’re right. I’m going to change. But, uh, could you go and make sure Felicia doesn’t try to steal something? She has a tendency to have sticky fingers…”

“Oh, god.” She darts back out into the living room, only to find Felicia still lounging on the couch, one leg crossed over the other.

“Did it really end that fast? I’m not surprised, but it’s kind of a shame. Maybe he’s losing his touch...”

Michelle grits her teeth in annoyance, letting the smug look she’s sporting fuel her rage. “We didn’t have sex, Felicia. As much as you really don’t deserve to—I don’t know—do this with a guy like Peter, he’s all yours, okay? Just fucking treat him right.”

Felicia stands up, her heels clicking as she makes her way over. “It’s not really your place to tell me what to do, is it?”

“Oh, of course not,” Michelle exhales, tiredly faking a smile. “I’m all for the independence of women, taking control of their own will and shit, but I also care about my friend."

That receives her an eye-roll and not much else. “How touching. Tell it to Peter when he finds out he’s not getting laid tonight. He can thank you for that, Michelle.” Felicia doesn’t spare her another glance as she walks to the door, letting it slam on her way out.

Michelle has a split-second to wonder if she’s wrong for getting in between Peter and Felicia. It’s certainly not her place. But before her thoughts can delve deeper, the bedroom door opens and he comes out.

“I heard that. She left?”

“Yeah. I’m sorry if you wanted to get laid.”

“It’s okay. I didn’t really want to, anyway,” Peter says, walking closer. It gives Michelle a chance to fully appreciate the Harry Potter t-shirt he threw on.

“Now that is a statement I never hear.”

He laughs quietly before nodding at the door. “Do you want to go get some ice cream? There’s a really good place around the corner. My treat.”

Michelle can’t help but smile. “Sure, Parker.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i just like to stir the pot a lil


	5. Chapter 5

Football nights are the worst nights to work at the bar, and that’s a fact. Michelle has noticed that everyone always acts more obnoxious than usual. They won’t stop yelling about fumbles and no one can keep their beer in the glasses. It’s an honest slipping hazard, not to mention it’s getting on her nerves.

She’s in the middle of making someone an old fashioned when the entire bar suddenly erupts out of their seats, cheering as loud as can be when a touchdown occurs. The old fashioned ends up all over her shoes.

“You _know_ what.” Michelle throws her towel down, grimacing at the glass now lying in shards at her feet.

“Damn. Now that was a waste of a good drink.”

Peter’s sitting on a stool, staring at her with mirth in his eyes and a football jersey over his shoulders. She flips him off while trying to find the broom and dustpan. It’s not in the back room, nor is it behind the counter.

“Parker. Can you do something useful and help me find the stuff to clean this up?”

“Hey, no, I don’t want to miss a part of the game,” he says, smirking a little. She straightens up to shoot a scowl at him.

“Oh, really? I wouldn’t have known, considering you haven’t looked at the TV in the past five minutes—too busy reveling in _my_ misery.” Michelle turns back around, bending over to rummage behind some more boxes. “Fine, watch the game. I will find the stupid broom myself, and I’ll serve the glass shards I pick up in your next drink—”

“Please don’t.” His voice comes from behind her. She turns around to find Peter right there, dustpan and broom in hand. He smiles sheepishly before leaning down to sweep up the glass himself.

“Ah, there he is. Local superhero, everyone,” she snorts with enough sarcasm to make it unbelievable. He places a hand over his heart.

“Hey, I could’ve left you on your own.”

“Well, I’ll be waiting for when you do.”

Peter offers her a small grin. “You’ll be waiting a long time.” He reaches forward and unties her apron, folding it in his hands. “Go home, Michelle. You’ve been here almost all day.”

“For once, I’m not going to argue with you. Going home sounds like the best idea...maybe to take a bath? Maybe steal your Spider-Man socks afterwards?”

“Oh, come on, those are limited edition.”

“And they’re ugly as hell, Parker,” she drawls. “But they’re also comfortable, so fair game.”

“Michelle—”

She interrupts him with a smile and a goodbye. He pouts, but Michelle ignores it, walking out of the bar and finds that it’s really nice to finally get a whiff of fresh air, even if the temperature is cold and dropping as she speaks. Everything else just feels better after only breathing in the smell of alcohol for eight hours.

It doesn’t take long to get back to the apartment, probably because everyone’s inside watching the game instead of walking around on the streets. 

Michelle does eventually end up in the bathroom with the water running but instead of a bath, she decided on a shower instead. She doesn’t understand how someone can really have the patience to sit in the tub for hours, just waiting to become a prune.

After the shower, she decides to come back to her room in pajamas and the Spider-Man socks, of course. Red and blue isn’t always the best color combination, she’s learned, not with that design.

Right when Michelle’s picking out a book to read, her phone dings. It’s a text from her father, only to say that he wired her five percent of the money he got from selling their house.

She just rolls her eyes and turns her phone off.

Michelle’s in the middle of watching an episode of _Criminal Minds_ , just getting to the good part where they’re going to find the copycat killer, when someone knocks vigorously on the door. It ruins the mood, and she’s suddenly not into her show anymore.

“Michelle! Who’s at the door?”

She can’t help but roll her eyes as Peter yells through their thin plaster walls. He’s in his bedroom with Felicia, probably out of breath after just having multiple rounds of sex with her. There’s a reason why the show’s volume is up ten notches higher than usual. Gunshots are usually a turn-off.

“Why don’t you come out and open it yourself?”

“I—I’m a little preoccupied right now!”

“Really? I had no _fucking_ idea,” she utters under her breath, knowing he can still hear her. Michelle reluctantly gets off the couch and braces herself as she goes to the door, considering how the last time panned out. However, when she opens it, her entire mood lifts. “Oh, my god.”

“ _Oh, my god_ is right. More so for me because you have no idea how long it took to find out where you lived. I didn’t actually expect to find you, seeing as I’ve been knocking on apartment doors all day long. Now, give me a hug!”

Michelle chuckles a little and pulls her friend into her arms, smiling all the while. “Yeah, yeah. Hey, Liz.”

“Missed you, MJ. New York is quite insane though, so you can understand why I’ve been stalling for a few months. I hope this is a good surprise. I’ll be here for the entire week, so we better get a lot of stuff in,” Liz says, her laugh silky and smooth.

“I guess I can take some time off from work…probably need it, too.” She turns around to look for her phone, but Peter emerges from his bedroom at that moment, half-dressed and rumpled, expression twisted into confusion. He’s about to say something but then his eyes widen at the sight of Liz. It leads him to cross his arms over his bare chest self-consciously.

“God, I didn’t realize...hi, I—I’m Michelle’s roommate…” 

Liz purses her lips and looks between the two of them thoughtfully. It doesn’t take long for her expression to light up with misplaced realization. “Wait a minute, are you two…”

“No.” Michelle jabs her finger towards his bedroom, refraining for scoffing out loud. It would only give the wrong idea. “He was banging someone else back there.”

“Hmm.” Her friend suddenly doesn’t seem so impressed, staring at him and his flourishing flush. “Interesting. I’m Liz.”

“Peter.” He holds out an awkward hand to shake, but that doesn’t get any reaction from her. It eventually falls back to his side, a slightly embarrassed look on his face. “Sorry. These are probably really bad first impressions.”

“You’ve had worse,” Michelle says, unable to hide her smirk. He lets out an exaggerated breath, smiling a little. “Uhm, Liz is someone I met after I left New York. Probably one of my closest friends. She’s great...really great—for visiting, I mean.”

“Aw, MJ, stop, you’re making me blush.”

Peter looks between the two of them, wearing a confused pout. “MJ?”

Michelle nods, clearing her throat a bit. Her face feels warmer than usual. “Yeah. It’s a nickname that she came up with. I don’t know, it’s stuck with us.”

Before he can respond to that, Felicia barges out of the bedroom, wearing only one of his t-shirts. “Peter! What’s taking you so fucking long?” However, she halts in her tracks at the sight all of them watching, tightening a smile on her face. “I didn’t realize we had company.”

“This is my friend, Liz,” Michelle says plainly, narrowing her eyes at the woman. 

“Oh? How lovely.” Felicia gives a once over before turning back to her fuck-buddy, grasping his forearm. “Peter, come _on_. You can’t make a girl wait forever. That’s really rude.”

Michelle doesn’t bother hiding her scowl, figuring that it doesn’t matter at this point. Her dislike for Felicia feels warranted. “I can tell you what else is really rude.”

“Okay, _Jones_. I don’t remember asking for your opinion, so just fucking chill. Or—you know what, why don’t you leave with your friend? And try to have a good time while you’re at it...unless that’s something you’re incapable of.”

“Right.” She crosses her arms, nodding, feeling something in her wither. This isn’t what she needs, to be fighting with a woman who holds no role of importance in her life. “Go back to screwing each other, then. I won’t be here to bother you.”

Liz places a hand on Michelle’s arm, offering her a generous smile. “Walk with me?”

“I don’t want to be the one to say it, but I feel like you live in a hostile environment,” Liz says as they walk down the streets of Queens, occasionally casting Michelle a glance. “Why did you decide to move in there?”

“It—it’s not bad, you know? And, uh, Peter...I’ve known him since elementary school. He’s a good guy—a _great_ guy who offered me a place to live. But Felicia has...connections to him, obviously, and despite how she acts, he tolerates her being around. I don’t understand that, but it’s not my business.”

“Aw, MJ. Why don’t you tell him that she makes you uncomfortable? I mean, it’s kind of...self-explanatory judging by what I saw today, and you guys are roommates. You should get equal say in things, right?”

“Yeah, but I don’t want to get in the way of things between them, either. Well, in the way of their sex.” Michelle scrunches her nose up. “I’ll just ignore Felicia, that’s all. All of this still beats when I had to live with my dad.”

“Oh, god, your dad.” Liz laughs quietly, shaking her head. “Is he still being rough on you? Maybe I could knock some sense into him.”

“You’d have to go to Seattle to do it. He moved,” Michelle utters matter-of-factly, kicking a stone down the sidewalk. It hits some unsuspecting man on the leg, and she feels kind of bad.

“What? Why did I not know that? Man, you should’ve told me, MJ. I would’ve flown down a lot sooner to give him a piece of my fucking mind.”

“Hah, no, it’s okay, Liz. Peter was there, and he helped me get through...whatever shit that was.” 

“Ohh. I see.” Liz gives her his look, one that Michelle has no idea the meaning of, which is weird. She can _always_ read Liz. “Well, if he takes care of my MJ like you say he does, then maybe he’s not as bad as I initially thought.”

Michelle flushes a bit and smiles. They walk a block further up until the ice cream parlor comes into view. She grabs Liz’s hand, pulling her over. “Hey, you want some? This is literally the best stuff in the city.”

Liz giggles, like music to her ears. “Only if you split a sundae with me.”

It’s nearing ten at night by the time Michelle gets back, and she’s tired as hell after spending hours walking around the city. She thinks that if Liz hadn’t known where her hotel was, then they’d still be traversing around. Still, it was really nice to spend time with her.

Michelle finds that Peter’s still awake when she walks in. He’s staring at the fluorescent TV, channel-surfing, eyes a little glazed over. 

“Hey,” she greets, her voice quiet and throat a bit sore from talking so much during the afternoon. Peter glances over and smiles a bit in greeting, though she notes he seems just as—if not more tired than her.

“Hi.”

“We the only two?” Michelle drops the keys on the table before she walks over to the couch. He kindly moves to one side so there’s enough room for her to sit down. 

“Yeah, Felicia left a while ago,” he says, finally settling on _Criminal Minds_ to play in the background but doesn’t look at the screen. Peter looks at her instead, curiosity tinting his expression. “Did you guys have a good time? I mean, I figure you did, considering how long you’ve been out.”

“I like to think we did.” She turns towards him, using a hand to keep her head upright. “I’ve honestly missed Liz since I haven’t seen her in months. We caught up while walking around the city like two people who don’t know how to walk around the city. I got us a little lost…”

Peter gasps overdramatically. “Wow, MJ. You’d think someone who was born _and_ grew up in New York for a good portion of their life would know how to get around. It hasn’t been that long.” 

“Hey, now, you know my sense of direction isn’t the best. I can get lost in a fucking grocery store.”

“Well...that is true.” He smirks a little, copying her stance. “So, where did you guys go?”

She straightens up and starts listing off places with her fingers. “Um...Astoria. Delmar’s, obviously. Corona Park. And, oh, that ice cream place? I forget what it’s called, but we shared a sundae. Well, actually, no, the term shared might be too generous. I’m pretty sure _she_ ate most of it—”

“I don’t mean to interrupt—I just...can I ask you a question? It—it’s really random too, but…” Peter trails off, sounding kind of nervous, and it piques Michelle’s curiosity. She leans forward, nodding. “Do you like Liz? And by like, I mean like-like her? You don’t have to give me a straight answer, of course, I’m just wondering is all…”

“You’re asking me if I like my friend as...more than a friend? That seems complicated. Any particular reason...why?”

“It’s just, you and Liz are super close,” he begins, using his hands to gesture. “You blush when you talk about her. And not just that. When you smile at her, it’s different. It’s open and honest and real.”

“What? Do I?”

Peter nods, swallowing. “You do.”

“Oh. But I know it’s not just her that I give those open, honest, and real smiles to,” Michelle says, starting to deadpan. He blinks a couple of times, confused. “You don’t think the smiles I give you are real?”

“No—I mean, _no_ , that’s not what I meant.” He struggles to continue, especially since she’s staring at him with a calculating expression. “C’mon, MJ...I’m just trying to say, if you like Liz, then I think you should go for it.”

“But I don’t know if I like Liz like...that.”

“I can help you figure it out,” Peter offers sincerely, and it only serves to jumble up her mind further. She honestly has no idea what’s going on with him or why he’s so eager to help.

“Why?”

“Because...I want you to be happy, MJ, and it’s clear that she makes you happy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it’s getting real


	6. Chapter 6

“This is so stupid,” Michelle utters, her head propped up against her hand as she sits at the kitchen island. Her phone is sitting on the counter, but she doesn't want to touch it, not really.

Peter shakes his head and slides it closer to her. Michelle thinks he’s acting like she’s a baby, and he’s trying her how to do something. “Come on, MJ, it’s not. People do this all of the time.”

“What, people ask their friends on dates all the time? Yeah, sure, maybe if I was in a rom-com, Parker, but this isn’t a rom-com. This is _real life_ , where I haven’t been on a date in a very long time, and there’s a very good chance I’m going to mess whatever this is up.”

He chews the inside of his cheek before conceding with a sigh. “Look, I don’t remember the last time I’ve done this either, but you’ve got it in the bag. The date will be worth it in the end to find out how you really feel about Liz. All you have to do is use the phone.”

Michelle snorts sardonically and faces the tech away from her. “Wow, it must really be that easy, huh? I’ll just call her up and ask her out, and it’ll be so _perfect_.”

Peter sighs in resignation and faces her on his stool. “Okay, fine. Do you want to practice with me? I’ll be Liz, and we’re just casually talking on the phone. Hit me with your best.”

“This is weird...but fine.” She takes a deep breath, fingers tapping idly against her leg. Her brain feels like a jumbled mess, unable to form any coherent thought that could be relatively useful in asking Liz out. A moment passes, and Peter makes a ‘ _let’s go_ ’ hand gesture.

“C’mon, MJ. Are you going to say anything?”

Michelle scowls at him. “Stop acting like this is a piece of cake, Peter, it’s annoying.”

He rolls his eyes, probably getting just as irritated with her as she is with him. This whole thing was just a bad idea in general. “It _is_ a piece of cake. Just _ask_ me.”

“Fine!” She plasters a sarcastic smile on her face and leans forward. “Liz, I was just wondering if you wanted to go out to eat tonight? There. Done. Casual dinner. Casual night. She won’t even know it’s a date.”

Peter groans. “If she doesn’t know it’s a date, then it’s _not_ a date.”

“I can live with that,” Michelle says, her voice deadpan.

“You’re incorrigible.”

“And you’re getting on my _nerves_.”

“Good!”

“Fan-fucking-tastic.”

They both go silent, enough for Michelle to hear a pin drop. She’s suddenly aware of how uneven her breathing is and wonders if it’s due to their close proximity. He’s not even a foot away, staring at her with this look in his eyes that doesn’t help the situation. 

The moment her gaze drops down to his lips, her phone chimes with a notification. It breaks them both out of whatever that was, giving Michelle a chance to collect herself. She doesn’t look at Peter, who clears his throat and stands up.

“What if we—or, do you just want to—to text her? Make it easier on yourself,” he stammers, his voice an octave higher than usual. For some reason, it makes Michelle laugh.

“You couldn’t have suggested that before we went through all of the other practice shit? Because, I mean, it’s definitely not how you ask someone out on a date...but considering it’s not an actual date…”

Peter manages a fond smile, shaking his head. “God, you’re stubborn.”

“I think it’s growing on you.”

“I think we’re both a little...underdressed for this place,” Liz exhales, looking around the restaurant. There are crystal chandeliers hanging from the ceiling and beautiful frames of artwork on the walls. “Peter recommended it? Boy, does he have expensive taste or what?”

“Unfortunately,” Michelle utters, already typing out an extremely passive-aggressive message about how she’ll bring him back some of the free cheese biscuits—seeing as that’s all she can afford.

“When you texted me about going out, I assumed for, like, coffee or something.”

“Yeah, well, this is a little more extravagant than I had in mind. Never again am I going to listen to Peter’s suggestions.”

Liz laughs a little and ducks her head behind the menu. “If I lease my house back home, do you think I’d be able to afford an appetizer?”

“Great, and I’ll sell an organ for dessert.”

“Gotta love New York cuisine. Who in their right mind would pay this much for gourmet pizza?”

“Honestly, what the fuck.” Michelle takes a sip of water, wondering if the intensity of the lights shining down on them is the only thing making her really warm. The point of this date is to see if she harbors any romantic feelings for Liz, and all they’re talking about is the food. “So...how much shopping have you gotten done so far? I know you said you wanted a decoration for each room in your house.”

“Oh, now that you mention it, I did go shopping yesterday. Actually, I was at this cute store, and I found something that I think you’d really like, so we need to go out tomorrow,” Liz says, a pretty smile gracing her features.

“Yeah? What is it?”

“It’s a mug. Says something about liquid sani-tea. I know how much you love tea, MJ.”

Michelle blinks in surprise before chuckling quietly. She shakes her head. “Funny thing, I already have that mug.”

Liz’s eyebrows shoot up. “You do? Wait, duh, of course you do. Your mug collection is huge.”

“Mhm. Peter bought it for me, actually.” And in return, she gave him a charcoal drawing she did that portrays Spider-Man as part of the Star Wars cast. He hung it up in his bedroom, gushing _if only_.

“Your roommate is such a nice guy. I’ll admit, I really didn’t like him at first, but the friendship that you two have is so touching.” Liz places a hand over her heart, fake-sniffing. “I wish my boyfriend did even half of the things that Peter does for you.”

Michelle nods, not registering what she said immediately. It takes a minute, and then she’s almost at a loss for words. “Wait, boyfriend?”

“Oh, right. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but it’s still so new, and I wanted to wait—just in case it doesn’t last, y’know? But his name is Brad. He’s, like, the tall, dark, and handsome type. We work together.”

“Right. Right—of course, that’s cool. I’m happy for you, Liz.” And she finds that she doesn’t have to force a smile. It’s genuine, despite the small ache she feels.

Michelle fumbles with her keys, trying to use one hand to unlock the door while the other is full with a stack of to-go boxes containing cheese biscuits. She nearly drops one, but the door opens just in time. Instead, they _all_ fall to the ground. She curses under her breath and kicks the door closed.

Once the boxes are stacked back up on the counter, Michelle walks into the living room, ready to watch something dark to get her mind off of things. What she finds, however, is so much worse.

Never in her life did she want to see Felicia and Peter naked on the couch. Granted, they’re sleeping and a blanket is covering a good portion of their bodies, but still.

Maybe she should’ve paid more mind to the clothes strewn across the apartment.

“I don’t mean to interrupt,” Michelle says, causing them both to startle awake. “But this is the last thing I wanted to see tonight. Seriously, on the couch? You better fucking power-wash this thing.”

“M—MJ?” Peter blearily rubs his eyes. He’s clearly too far past embarrassment at this point, unlike Felicia, who’s taking up nearly the whole blanket to hide.

“Sup. I’m assuming you weren’t expecting me.”

“I just—I thought you and Liz…?”

“Did you think we’d go back to her hotel room and get a little bit of _this_ in?” Michelle snorts sardonically. “You have too much faith in me, Parker. Besides, what would her boyfriend say?”

Peter’s eyes widen in sympathy, something she doesn’t want to see right now. “What?”

“See, this is the type of situation that could have easily been avoided,” Felicia remarks with a little laugh, poking her head out of the blanket. “That’s what makes it funny.”

Michelle nods so vigorously that her neck could snap. “Yeah, of course. You’re right, it’s hilarious. So funny that I need to go back to my room and watch videos of people dying to stop laughing.” She turns around without another word and walks back to her bedroom, thankful that there are locks on the doors.

After getting changed into her pajamas, Michelle climbs into bed with her laptop, ready to binge a few episodes of _Criminal Minds_. Just as she’s about to put in her earbuds, there’s a knock at her door.

“MJ?”

“What?”

“Can...can I come in?” He jiggles the handle, but it’s still locked. “Please?”

Michelle rolls her eyes and goes over to open the door for him. He’s standing there, fully-dressed—thank god, and there’s a quart of ice cream in his hand from that parlor down the street.

“Hey,” she says plainly, moving back into bed. Peter trails behind, putting the ice cream on her nightstand.

“Hi. Uh, Felicia left, so it’s just us.” He rocks back and forth on his heels for a little bit when she doesn’t say anything in response. “Okay, I came into your room to tell you something, but I really...didn’t think it through.”

“If it wasn’t the words _I’m sorry_ , I’ll let you watch TV with me.”

Peter frowns and steps closer to her. “No, that’s—that’s not what it was. I mean, I kind of am, but not...not for the reason you’re probably thinking. I basically pushed you to go on this date, and I shouldn’t have because now it sucks.”

“Nah, Parker. It’s fine. I’m glad I went, actually. It helped me figure out where I stood with her. She’s still my friend, and we’re good.”

“Aren’t you...sad?”

“Not enough to cry. I didn’t think I liked Liz like that, you know? But I guess you don’t realize what you feel for someone until you can’t have them. I’m just happy I didn’t have a chance to let those feelings accumulate.”

“Oh. Yeah. Well, I brought you some ice cream, anyway. I don’t know if you want it now—”

“Of course I want it,” Michelle says with a small smile, and he hands the tub over. “Thanks, Peter.”

“You’re welcome. I, uh—I should probably…” He jabs his thumb towards the door, backing up a bit, but she stops him with her words.

“My offer still stands, you know. Unless you have more important things to do, we can watch Netflix until midnight.”

Peter swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing. Eventually, he nods, so she makes room for him on the bed. They both sink beneath the blankets, getting comfortable, and Michelle starts the episode.

The ice cream is really good—cross her heart. It’s just, Michelle can’t really savor the flavor as much as she’d like because the only thing flooding her senses is the scent of Felicia’s perfume.

It makes her eyes sting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we're sorta kinda maybe getting somewhere


	7. Chapter 7

With Liz having gone back home, Michelle doesn’t have much to do anymore. Darrell gave her some time off for the holidays, but it feels more like a waste, considering that she doesn’t have any family that she wants to spend them with. 

And Peter was invited to spend some time with Ned and Betty at their nice piece of college-student real estate on the other side of the country. Of course, he offered for her to come along, but she declined. There are worse things than being a fourth-wheel, but Michelle couldn’t think of any at the time.

Now, it’s at the point when she realizes being completely alone for three days is a prime example of one of those _worse things_.

Michelle spent a good portion of her break trying to cook an extravagant meal for herself, which didn’t go as well as she was hoping. There was a very close call with a fiery oven, but thank god for the gallon of milk in the fridge. 

Unfortunately, that made the entire kitchen smell terrible, so she had to eat her dinner in her bedroom. The food wasn’t even that good—definitely not worth slaving for hours over. All she gained was a back ache.

It’s the third day now, and Michelle’s still inside, watching a documentary on serial killers when the landline rings. She always thought it was a bit ridiculous to still have a landline, but Peter insisted that they’re more reliable than cellphones.

She begrudgingly gets up to answer it. The voice that’s speaking on the other end sounds vaguely familiar.

“I know I never call this number—considering I gave you a Stark Phone for a _reason_ —but when you don’t answer, what other choice do I have? Listen, Pete, this isn’t a mission, so don’t worry. It is the holidays, however, so I wanted to personally invite—”

“Uh, this isn’t Peter.”

“No? Did I call the wrong number? Damn, that’s what happens when I can’t remember a stupid landline number. I apologize—”

“You know, you sound really familiar,” Michelle says, taking a seat on the couch. 

The man laughs mirthfully on the other end. “Well, I sure hope so. I wouldn’t get anywhere in life if no one knew my voice.” A beat passes. “Yeah, I know, F.R.I.D.A.Y., shut up.”

“Judging by that signature cockiness of yours and the fact that you gave Peter a Stark Phone, I'm going to presume that this is Iron Man himself, huh?”

“You presume correctly. And whom am I speaking to?”

“Michelle Jones. I’m living with Peter now.”

“Wow. That kid really doesn’t tell me anything.”

“Don’t take it personally, he doesn’t tell anybody.” She sighs and stands up again, unable to remain still. “He’s not in town, by the way. Maybe use your fancy Stark Phone to ring him up and leave a voicemail?”

“No use in that, Miss Jones. I just called to see if he wanted to attend a little gathering I’m having, but since he’s not there…” Tony pauses. “Although, it would be a waste to let this invitation disappear. Why don’t you come instead?”

Michelle frowns, glancing down at the receiver. “That sounds daunting. You could be luring me over to murder me or something.”

“What an accusation. I’m wounded.”

“Sorry. Just watched a serial killer documentary, so…”

“I’m going to send a driver to come pick you up. You should get out of the house, mingle, socialize a bit. Maybe stop watching murderers on screen. We’re serving hors d’oeuvres. I hope you like goat cheese balls.”

Michelle grimaces as the line cuts. First off, the mere thought of goat cheese makes her stomach turn. And, second, does she not get a choice in coming to a party? So what if it’s Tony Stark? She’s not a fan of his, and her documentary isn’t even over.

But then the realization that his wife will more than likely be there hits her, and Michelle is a fan of Pepper Potts. That changes things.

It’s not like Michelle knows what to wear to a Stark party, though, which is why all she’s going to wear is a pair of jeans and a t-shirt promoting feminism—because why not?

After getting dressed, she sits back down with the hopes of finishing her documentary. But, of course, someone knocks on the apartment door, so that plan is down the drain. She can admit, it took less time than she expected. Clearly.

There’s a man standing on the other side when Michelle opens it. He looks grumpy and bored. She wonders how many hairs on his head are gray because of his job.

“Are you Michelle Jones?”

“Depends on who’s asking.”

“Oh, come on, kid. Don’t make my job harder than it needs to be,” he grunts, making her straighten up. She crosses her arms.

“Well, excuse me for not wanting to get into a car with a stranger. It’s not like Stark gave me any _details_ about this, you know.”

“At least you’ve got some common sense, unlike most teenagers these days. The name’s Happy. I’m supposed to be your driver to Tony’s. He sent over some goat cheese balls, too.” He hands over a container, which Michelle gives one look before tossing in the bin. “Okay. Respect.”

“Yeah, I like to think I at least have taste in food,” she says with a slight smile. The two of them start heading out to the car. “Maybe you can try convincing Stark to stop serving goat cheese at his parties.”

“Trust me, I've _tried_.”

Michelle didn’t realize that the party was held at the Avengers’ compound, but she should’ve known. It’s filled with a lot more people than one would call a _little gathering_. She almost regrets coming.

Of course, Tony is the first one to approach her and Happy. He’s holding a glass of champagne in one hand. 

“Hey! You found Miss Jones! Wonderful.”

“Just doing my job. She’s surprisingly decent, and she shares my opinion about me getting a raise, so.” Happy clears his throat before lowering his voice, but Michelle can still hear him. “Maybe that means the kid has finally gotten some taste.”

“Well, he deserves better than what he had,” Tony says with a sigh, massaging his jaw.

Michelle isn’t sure what they’re talking about exactly, but just by their choice of words, she has a vague idea. It makes her think that there’s some sort of misunderstanding going on.

“So...why did you want me to come to your...gathering,” she asks, glancing around at the full living room. “And don’t say it was because the invitation would go to waste otherwise. I think you have more than enough guests.”

“Promise not to get mad at me if I tell you? I’d rather not have an angry teenager throwing things at my head again.”

Michelle scoffs, even though she’s vaguely curious about what happened before. “I can’t promise you that I won’t get mad, but I won’t break your thousand-dollar vases. Probably."

“Alright. You probably don’t know this, but Pepper and I, we think of Peter as family. So do the rest of the Avengers. So does Morgan. He doesn’t really have anyone else. His last girlfriend...well, he didn’t need someone like her on top of everything. I invited you to...basically judge your character, if you will. For the kid’s sake. We don’t want any repeats.”

“Wait, you think I’m _dating_ Peter?”

Tony raises an eyebrow. “You’re living together, aren’t you?”

“Well, yeah, but—we’re just roommates. He’s still…” Michelle trails off, knowing she shouldn’t give his business away. It’s apparent that Tony doesn’t know about Felicia still being around, but it’s not her place to tell him. “We’re friends, that’s all.”

“Oh. Forget everything I just said, then. Have you tried the goat cheese balls? They are...” He gives a chef’s kiss. “Magnifique.”

Michelle said she wouldn’t get involved, but she’s curious. It’s too hard not to ask. “No, wait, can you maybe elaborate? His last girlfriend?”

Tony takes a drink of his champagne and puts the remaining bit on the table. “I’ll put it this way. If Peter was a ladder to get to the top, that girl was climbing him like a monkey. It wasn’t healthy. She used him for his status as Spider-Man.” He pauses and then frowns. “Wait, you do know he’s Spider-Man, right?”

“A little _late_ for that, Stark, but yeah. I know.”

“Okay, cool, just wanted to make sure. I worry about the kid, you know? He needs something real.”

“Yeah. I get that.” Nothing hurts more than finding out everything around you is a lie.

“But, uh, don’t tell him I told you all of this. He wouldn’t want you to feel bad for him or anything.”

Michelle nods, chewing the inside of her cheek. She feels like she overstepped some invisible boundaries in her and Peter’s friendship. She knows something that he didn’t tell her, and it doesn’t sit right in her stomach.

Not just that, but now that she has background knowledge on his relationship with Felicia, the fact that he keeps going back to her after everything she put him through makes it all the more confusing.

This is a situation Michelle wishes she didn’t put herself in.

Speaking of the devil, her phone rings. Peter’s called her the past two nights to check in, and it wouldn’t feel good to ignore him now.

“It’s him. I’m going to take this.”

Tony nods and gestures to the hallway behind them. “Take your time. Don’t forget to try the hor d’oeuvres.”

Michelle goes into the quieter space and answers Peter’s call.

“MJ, hey,” he greets excitedly. “I’m sorry I didn’t call earlier. We went out and saw the new Star Wars movie—it was really cool, I think you’d like it—but that’s not the point. How are you doing?”

“Uh, you know. The usual. Not really...much going on over here,” she says, trying to keep her voice even. Lying isn’t her speciality. Michelle always used to tell people the truth, no matter how much it hurt. But, in this case, she doesn’t know what to do.

“Where are you? I can hear voices in the background.”

Michelle sighs and takes a seat. “Funny thing, your _gracious_ friend Tony called and said I was invited to come to his holiday party. So, I’m here and I regret it. There are way too many people and the hors d’oeuvres suck.”

“God, Mr. Stark and his thing for goat cheese. It’s kind of disgusting. I had no idea he was having a party, though! They’re usually so cool. I got to meet all of the Avengers there once.”

“Well, you’re more invested than I am. I’m pretty sure Stark only invited me so I’d stop getting ideas from my serial killer documentaries.” Definitely not because he wanted to see if she was _girlfriend material_. There goes another lie.

“Okay, well, I hope your time there gets better. You’ll warm up to him and the rest of them soon. I—shit—Ned just got his finger stuck in a beer bottle. I gotta go. Call me if you need anything, yeah? I’ll be home by tomorrow.”

“Bye, Parker,” she says quietly, letting him hang up the call first.

After pocketing her phone, Michelle turns around to find the one and only Pepper Potts leaning against the doorway. 

“You must be Michelle, right?”

She swallows thickly, nodding. Unlike with Tony, Michelle feels completely intimidated by being in the same room as his wife. “Y—yes.”

“It’s very nice to meet you.” Pepper offers her a hand to shake. Michelle mentally pinches herself before taking it. She realizes with regret that her skin is clammy. “Are you having a good time?”

“Uh…”

“It’s okay if you’re not. I realize that you probably didn’t have a choice in coming. My husband told me he invited you to make sure you were a good person, which I’m sure you are.” She rolls her eyes. “He’s overprotective of Peter. We all are, but Tony especially.”

“Yeah, so I’ve heard,” Michelle says, trying to swallow her nerves. Tony may be overprotective, but if anyone were to ever give the shovel talk, it would definitely be Pepper. “I sort of got the rundown on his...ex, but I don’t really know what I’m supposed to do now.”

“Just keep doing what you’re doing, Michelle. You’re his friend, and he clearly likes having you around.” Pepper pauses to wave her hand. “Sorry, I may have accidentally eavesdropped on your phone conversation.”

“But…”

“But what?”

“I...I don’t know. What if I’m not enough?”

Because he’s keeping Felicia around for a reason.

“I think you are. I think you’re everything he needs.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> did a bit of revising


	8. Chapter 8

Michelle’s back to working at the bar the very next day. She decided against using the rest of her break, not wanting to spend her time at home overthinking about Peter. Keeping busy is the best thing to do, even if that means wiping counters and serving drinks.

But that doesn’t keep her from zoning out, if Darrell’s fingers snapping in her face are any indication.

“Hello? Michelle? You in there?”

She blinks back to reality and offers him a wry smile. “Sorry. I’m just tired. What do you need?”

Darrell snorts before turning around to empty the tip jar. He picks up a piece of paper that fell out with the dollar bills. “You’ve got another number. It’s taking up space for the goods.”

“Oh.”

“Let me know if you want a way to stop all this. I’ll probably be able to find a paper bag to put over your head,” he jokes, tossing it over to her in a paper ball. She laughs and chucks the rag at him.

“Shut up, Darrell.”

He sticks his tongue out in retaliation before going into the back room. Michelle wholeheartedly considers throwing the paper away without reading it, but something has her curiosity piqued. She begins to unfold it, bottom lip caught between her teeth. The note doesn’t seem too out of the ordinary.

‘ _let me take you out sometime_

_xx _'__

__Michelle’s breath catches. She’s probably being irrational, seeing something that isn’t really there. Maybe her tiredness is catching up with her. It’s just, the x’s don’t look like they’re written with a red marker. It’s splotchy and dark, more than ketchup or tomato sauce would be._ _

__After staring at it for a minute too long, she eventually writes it off as a harmless flirt. But, instead of throwing the note away, Michelle tucks it into her back pocket before going back to cleaning up._ _

__Her next job is to mop the floors, only because Darrell hates doing that and no one else is working. They’re still taking their days off, like sane people would._ _

__While she’s trying not to slip in her own soapy mess, the bell near the front door jingles. Michelle doesn’t look up, not until someone taps her on the shoulder. She turns around and immediately, her words get caught in her throat._ _

__“Hi,” Peter greets with that sincere smile of his. She notices his suitcase is sitting next to him._ _

__“Sup, Parker.” Michelle clears her throat, attempting a smile back, one that doesn’t look too forced. “What are you doing here?”_ _

__“Well, I was walking back from the airport and saw you working. Honestly, who works on their holiday break? But I figured I might as well come in and see my favorite bartender. How is she doing?”_ _

__Michelle looks around, feigning a thoughtful expression. “I’m pretty sure Gwen is still off. Sorry, maybe come back tomorrow?”_ _

__He laughs, eyes crinkling around the corners. “Shut up, MJ.”_ _

__“ _You shut up, Peter _,” she retorts with a snort, lightly shoving his shoulder. “I’m allowed to feel a little betrayed, alright? What, with Gwen being your favorite bartender and all…”___ _

____Peter lightheartedly rolls his eyes. “Okay, but I missed you more. Doesn’t that count for something?”_ _ _ _

____“I think that counts for spending time with me this evening. Congratulations, loser, we’re watching a movie of my choice.” She turns her back to him, trying to finish mopping. “Besides, I need to tell you something, anyway.”_ _ _ _

____“What is it?”_ _ _ _

____Michelle swallows thickly, not looking at him. She decided she’s going to come clean about what she learned the previous night. It’s only right. Maybe they’ll be able to talk it all out and everything will be okay._ _ _ _

____“You’ll just have to wait and see, won’t you?”_ _ _ _

____“Yeah, yeah. Okay, well, I guess I’ll see you later at home, and you’ll tell me all about it.” He grabs the handle of his suitcase, sighing exaggeratedly. “Here’s to hoping the place doesn’t smell like spoiled milk.”_ _ _ _

____“Hey, you agreed not to speak about that!”_ _ _ _

____ _ _

____ _ _

____By the time Michelle gets back to the apartment, she’s suffering from a raging headache. Not to mention she’s already regretting the idea of telling Peter everything from the previous night._ _ _ _

____It also doesn’t help that he looks to be in a bad mood now. He’s currently sitting at the island with a cup of tea in front of him, scrolling on his phone. When she drops her things on the ground, he casts her a brief glance before looking back down, typing something with more vigor than usual._ _ _ _

____“Where’s the Tylenol?”_ _ _ _

____“Cabinet over the fridge,” Peter replies, sounding distracted. He’s still staring at his phone, expression hard and frown evident._ _ _ _

____“Thanks.” Michelle walks over and grabs two from the bottle, downing them with a glass of water. “Feels like something split my head open with an axe, for fuck’s sake.”_ _ _ _

____“Want me to turn off the lights?”_ _ _ _

____“No, it’s fine. Hey, uh...” She trails off, realizing that whatever he’s doing clearly has his undivided attention. Far be it from her to interrupt. Instead, she goes over to the living room and collapses onto the couch, closing her eyes for a bit._ _ _ _

____Moments pass. Michelle isn’t sure how many, but she’s nearly about to fall asleep when Peter finally makes his way over. He does end up turning off the lights, probably because he thinks she’s already sleeping._ _ _ _

____“MJ?” His voice is lower than a whisper._ _ _ _

____“Yeah, I’m still awake, Parker,” she utters quietly, cracking one eye open. “I was going to say...you’re late for our movie thing. We could’ve watched that stupid rom-com of yours.”_ _ _ _

____“Not sure how I feel about that movie anymore.” He grabs the blanket from the back of the couch and drapes it over her. “Romance is kind of dead.”_ _ _ _

____Michelle inhales sharply, opening both eyes to look at him. “Weird. Usually, I’m the cynical one. And here I thought I knew you.”_ _ _ _

____“Well, it’s complicated.” Peter sighs, taking a seat next to her. “Felicia doesn’t exactly make it easy to _not _be cynical. Everything she does is either a part of a plan or it has a motive, which is usually to piss me off.”___ _ _ _

______“Yeah, that’s very apparent, Peter,” Michelle says, sitting up. She can barely see him in the dark, only his silhouette. “Seriously, why are you still dealing with her?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______He swallows thickly, shaking his head. “Like I said, it’s complicated.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Right. Complicated.” Her throat suddenly feels very dry. Not knowing what else to do, Michelle turns around and switches the nearby lamp on, illuminating their faces with a dim glow. “Listen, remember how I said I needed to tell you something earlier? Well, I think we should have that conversation...” She trails off when she realizes he still isn’t listening to her. “Parker.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Peter exhales loudly, sounding quite frustrated if she’s being honest. “I think this fell out of your pocket.” He hands her the piece of paper he was reading—the same one from earlier that Michelle’s been meaning to throw away._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Great. Yeah, okay, that’s not important. I’ll trash it when I get the chance. As I was saying…”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Sorry. I know I haven’t really been listening—I’m sorry. I thought tonight would be better and that we’d get to watch a movie, but it’s just...”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Michelle nods, feeling her words die on the tip of her tongue. “Maybe we should save the talking for another day then.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Yeah…” He sits back, shoulder brushing up against hers. They both remain there in comfortable silence for a while, neither of them knowing what else to say._ _ _ _ _ _

______Eventually, she turns the light back off, expecting sleep to come to her easier now. It doesn’t, though. Not really. There’s still a faint ache to her head, but Michelle can’t bring herself to close her eyes again, even though the darkness she sees now won’t change._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Peter?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Hmm?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Sorry. I...guess I was going to ask if you were asleep yet,” Michelle says with a useless roll of her eyes. He snorts a little, shifting on the couch. She can see the shadow of his hand blindly reaching for something but feels unprepared when it hits her in the face. They both reel backwards in surprise. “What the fuck was that for?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Oh, my god. I’m so sorry.” Peter immediately sits up, palm moving to gently cradle the side of her cheek. She inhales sharply at the contact. “Are you okay?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Just fine, but if it happens again, expect me to fight back, Parker.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“I’m sorry,” he repeats, voice quiet and borderline soft. His thumb is brushing against her skin, and it’s suddenly all she can think about, too hyper-aware of his touch and her quickening heart. “Michelle…?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Yeah, Peter.” Her response is barely audible, even to her own ears. He swallows, gaze flickering down once before meeting her eyes. Michelle can’t really see him, not with the lights off, but she finds she doesn’t need to._ _ _ _ _ _

______Not when he leans forward first, closing the gap between them. His other hand comes up, tentatively curling in her hair, and she can’t help but sigh contently against his lips. There’s something so wrong about this situation, but it feels unlike anything she’s experienced before in all of the right ways._ _ _ _ _ _

______At least for a moment._ _ _ _ _ _

______When Peter pulls back, blinking with warmth in his expression, Michelle realizes that they desperately need to talk, and it can’t wait, not after what just happened. He must realize that, too, upon noticing her hesitation._ _ _ _ _ _

______“MJ…”_ _ _ _ _ _

______She immediately turns on the light before looking back at him. “I think we need to discuss some things, Parker.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Peter’s eyes widen, face flushing in embarrassment. He shakes his head, looking down. “Shit, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Okay, could you just let me talk? And stop apologizing, you’ve been doing that all night,” Michelle tells him with a sigh. “We kissed, it’s a big deal, but I want to know why, and I want to know what’s going on with you and Felicia.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Look, I—I know it’s weird, and you’re probably really confused, but I…”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“No. No, we can’t put this off any longer, alright? Why would you kiss me if you’re having sex with her?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“It’s...a long story, Michelle, but I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have, okay? It was a mistake.” Peter’s voice is quiet, but that only sends a rush of ice through her veins._ _ _ _ _ _

______“I already know the story, Peter. I heard it last night from the party I was invited to,” she says, swallowing her wounded pride. “You and Felicia had an unhealthy relationship. That’s why you broke up, but why the _hell_ are you still with her now?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______That hits him like a slap in the face. “Are you fucking kidding me? Who told you?” He clenches his jaw, standing up. “That’s not your business—it’s not even theirs.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“No shit, Parker!” Michelle stands up as well, crossing her arms defensively. “But you made it my business now. I’m not just going to sit around while you fuck a girl who made you feel like absolute crap.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Why do you care? Why the _fuck_ do you even care?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“You know why I fucking care.” Her voice is low and shaky as she keeps her fists clenched by her sides. He shakes his head, moving away from the couch. “What, are you just going to walk away from this?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“I don’t need to hear about my relationship with Felicia from _you_ , of all people,” Peter says, his anger and frustration evident. “Go to bed, Michelle.” And then he leaves the apartment, slamming the door on his way out. It splinters the frame, cracking the lock._ _ _ _ _ _

______Michelle swears a few more times for good measure before turning around. She’s never seen Peter so defensive nor angry about anything _ever_ , and that in turn activated her own mechanisms. She isn’t the type of person who can take being yelled at without yelling back. It’s ingrained in her brain, probably after so many arguments with her father._ _ _ _ _ _

______In this case, though, maybe she shouldn’t have. Peter isn’t her father. He’s helped her talk out issues she’s had—empathetically and understandingly. He deserves that much in return._ _ _ _ _ _

______Which is why Michelle decides against going to bed and instead paces around the kitchen. Her eyes start to droop within an hour or two, and she isn’t sure how much longer she can stay awake._ _ _ _ _ _

______Splashing water on her face helps a little but not much._ _ _ _ _ _

______She goes back to the living room and picks up the abandoned blanket, folding it in her hands. The note from earlier falls onto the ground, crumbled into a wad._ _ _ _ _ _

______Michelle picks it up and goes over to the garbage can, preparing to get rid of the stupid thing. However, her attention is caught by the front door. It’s wide open._ _ _ _ _ _

______“I’m glad you got my tip,” someone says. It’s a man’s voice, one that sounds vaguely familiar._ _ _ _ _ _

______Unfortunately, before she can do anything about it, something hard and heavy hits her head from behind._ _ _ _ _ _

______Being blinded by white flashes of pain isn’t fun, which is why it’s a relief when everything goes dark._ _ _ _ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :o


	9. Chapter 9

“—god, MJ. Em? Hey, come on, wake up. _Michelle_. Can you hear me? Come on, Em. _Shit_. Please...just open your eyes.”

Michelle has never felt searing pain like she did when she got hit. Whatever weapon the man used, it felt like it had cracked her skull, shattering pieces of her brain. And even now when she’s finally regaining consciousness, it hurts just as bad, if not worse. The back of her head is throbbing, almost matching the beat of her heart.

“Fuck,” she whispers, her vision blurry as she opens her eyes. Peter’s kneeling there in front of her, so many emotions openly displayed across his face that it hurts to look at him. “Hey…”

“Hi.” He attempts a wry smile, the weakest one she’s ever seen. It falls within seconds as she tries to sit up but is unable to. “No, here. I got you, I got you.” 

Michelle lets Peter keep her steady. At this point, she’s leaning most of her body weight against him, anyway. She brings one of her hands up to the source of her pain, wincing when it comes away wet.

“That’s not good…”

“Understatement of the century,” he utters, and she nods, dropping her head. Everything is spinning, and it would be so nice to just go to sleep. “Hey, no—keep your eyes open for me, okay? I know you’re tired and that it hurts, but please keep them open. We need to bring you to the hospital.”

“Peter…” Michelle inhales sharply. “I’m going to puke. I’m serious, I—I need…” She trails off, attempting to swallow it down.

“Okay, okay, it’s okay. I can get a bucket, but if you need to let it out right now, just do it.” He stands up, making sure she can stay upright on her own before grabbing the closest thing that resembles a container. It ends up being an empty peanut butter jar. 

Michelle vomits her guts out, fully and completely. She groans and caps the jar, handing it back to him. “You were saying something about a hospital?”

“The—the one nearest to us is at least twenty minutes on a good day, and I don’t know how fast the paramedics can get here.” Peter turns around, biting his nails. “I could...god, I don’t know if it’s a good idea, though.”

“What?”

Peter pinches the bridge of his nose before making web-shooting motions with his hands. Michelle grimaces at the thought of swinging through the city, jostling her already damaged head.

But on the other hand, she doesn’t think she can wait an hour to get to the hospital without falling asleep or vomiting again. If Michelle has a concussion, which is most likely the case, she would like it taken care of as soon as possible.

“Okay. Let’s...do that.”

Peter blinks rapidly, bottom lip caught between his teeth. “Are you sure?”

“No. I just think it’s the best idea we have,” she says, trying to stand up off the floor. Her legs are shaky, and he immediately moves a chair over for her.

“Yeah, y-you’re probably right. Okay, I’ll be right back.” He gives her one last look before darting back into his bedroom. It gives Michelle a chance to collect her disarrayed thoughts. She desperately wishes she had an aspirin or two or three.

Only a minute passes until Peter comes back in his Spider-Man suit sans mask. She gulps, her nerves building up about actually swinging around with him—something she’s never done before. Michelle’s not the biggest fan of heights either, but that seems like the least of their worries.

“How do I…”

“Here, just…” Peter lifts Michelle off the chair, tucking her into his side. She assumes his arm is a secure enough seat-belt, at least enough so that she won’t go flying off into the middle distance. “Just hold on, okay?”

“No, I was thinking about letting go.” She manages an eye-roll.

He smiles a little, closing his eyes and leaning his head forward slightly so that his nose brushes against her cheek. It’s barely a second after that when he pulls the mask on, mechanical eyepieces adjusting themselves already.

Michelle can admit, she’s thoroughly unprepared for the feeling that erupts in her stomach when Peter jumps out of the apartment window. It’s like her body is warning her that she’s going to die, autopilot on. She quickly closes her eyes as they near the ground.

But, of course, Peter shoots his web out, and they’re flying towards another building. She dares to look at their surroundings from behind, resting her chin on his shoulder. It would almost be beautiful if her vision weren’t so blurry.

Peter’s voice comes through, muffled by his mask. “You doing okay?” She has to strain her ears to hear over the wind.

“This might have been so much cooler if we weren’t going to the hospital.”

If anything, those words make him go faster. Michelle groans, ducking her head into the crook of his neck. She knows she’ll throw up at this rate if she keeps looking.

Within the next minute, Peter lands in front of the hospital. He has to shove past some people to get inside, even though most recognize him.

“I need some help here! She—she needs a doctor,” he manages, and a nurse quickly flags over a gurney.

“We’ll take it from here, Spidey. Thanks for the help.”

“Yeah, I just…” He places Michelle on the bed himself, fussing a little if she’s being honest. “She probably has a concussion, so she’ll need medication and a CT scan just to be safe, and—”

“Okay. If you let us do our jobs, we’ll take good care of her,” the nurse says, looking more amused than irritated.

Peter nods vehemently, giving Michelle’s hand a gentle squeeze. “Yeah. Yeah, sorry. I—I’ll let you do that.”

But he doesn’t let go until they start rolling her away.

After being professionally diagnosed with a mild concussion and supplied with medication, Michelle is told that she’s free to go home, or she can stay overnight for observation if she wants to. 

Based on the fact that their lock is broken at the apartment, however, Michelle decides that going home isn’t something she feels comfortable doing, especially since whoever hit her upside the head is still out there.

As she’s trying to figure out the details of exactly what happened, there’s a knock on her door. The nurse peeks her head in, smiling kindly.

“There’s a Peter Parker here for you? Would you like me to send him in?”

“Please.” 

The nurse nods and leaves, giving Michelle a brief second by herself before Peter walks in, a tentative look on his face. He’s wringing his hands, something he does when he’s nervous.

“Hey. How do you feel?”

“Like I was given pain medication to deal with the dent in my head,” she says with a small shrug. “And like I should be taking a ten-year nap right about now, even though there are more important things to think about.”

Peter offers an awkward chuckle. “Tell me about it.” He shifts from one foot to the other as she scrutinizes him, trying to figure out what he’s thinking. It’s annoyingly difficult. “Listen, MJ…”

“Wait, can you just…” Michelle sighs, rubbing her forehead. “Can you tell me what happened? When, uh, you came back, I mean. Because I only remember the man knocking me out, and…”

He swallows thickly, taking a seat at the foot of her bed. “I noticed the door was open, and since it was three in the morning, I figured something was off...even though I didn’t sense anything. But then I came in and saw...you on the ground. There were some things missing—money and...stuff. That really wasn’t at the forefront of my mind.”

“Great. We got robbed. It was the same person who put that note in my tip jar, but I—I don’t know _who_ , and it’s bothering the hell out of me—”

“Hey, no, it’s okay. We’ll figure it out. Whoever it is…” Peter takes a deep breath, clenching his fists. He doesn’t meet her eyes, blinking rapidly. “Whoever it is, they’ll be behind bars in no time.” 

“You’re awfully confident in our abilities. The only thing I remember is his voice.”

“That—that’s fine. Don’t stress about it now. You’re safe here.”

Michelle snorts sardonically, picking at a thread in the sheets. “It’s New York. No one is safe anywhere, Parker.”

“Yeah, well...I’m not going to leave you again. Not like I did last night.” Peter inhales shakily, moving closer. He grasps one of her hands without much hesitation, tightly holding on like she’s a lifeline. If it were anybody else, she thinks they might break her hand. “I—I’m sorry, MJ. For leaving, for everything else...it was _so_ incredibly stupid—and you got hurt because of it, and I’m so sorry—”

“God, stop apologizing. What happened to me could’ve happened to anyone, so... _stop_ taking this up with your ridiculously large guilt complex.”

“But I—”

Michelle holds a hand up to stop him. “Peter, I have a concussion, I’m not missing a limb. I’ll heal, and I’ll be 110% better in a few weeks. There’s no need to make yourself feel bad.” She starts to sit up, swatting at him when he protests. “And there’s no need to be a mother hen, either. I’m not going to break my back here.”

“Sorry,” he mumbles, adding onto the toll once more. “Can’t really help it. May...my aunt, she was always the same way, always taking care of people who probably didn’t need it.”

“Everyone needs someone to be there for them, even if they don’t know it,” Michelle says, swallowing everything else she wants to say that’s burning on the tip of her tongue. “That’s what friends are for.”

Peter sniffs once, nodding. “I love my friends.”

“So do I.” She gives him a smile, a small one, and opens her arms, just enough for Peter to fit. He lets out a breath, sinking into her embrace with closed eyes. They’re not huggers, haven’t shared much one-on-one contact like this in the past, but Michelle thinks it’s not so bad.

Would 10/10 do it again.


End file.
